


Boombottle!

by Ravunn



Series: In Our Nature series [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft II, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, I never played Warcraft II, Original Character(s), Pre-Third War (Warcraft), Prequel, Sorry in advance if I make any mistakes, Time Skips, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26143438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravunn/pseuds/Ravunn
Summary: Jazax always has three things on his mind, as a goblin usually does: money, women, and explosives. Not always in that order. Follow him from his days as a young sapper during the Second War, through his rocky marriage to a cutthroat mercenary, and up to his eventual decision to leave the Steamwheedle Cartel to become a priest of the Light. A loose prequel for In Our Nature.
Relationships: Female Blood Elf | Elves/Male Goblin(s) (Warcraft), Goblin(s)/Goblin(s) (Warcraft), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: In Our Nature series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898449
Comments: 10
Kudos: 4





	1. Dynamite

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, everyone, to this prequel of sorts for “In Our Nature”! Neither is required reading for the other, as they follow two different protagonists in different time periods. While “In Our Nature” is about Zami the troll rogue-turned-druid during the Cataclysm (Year 28), this story has a revolving time period but is initially set way back during the Second War (starting in Year 5) and focuses on Jazax the goblin.
> 
> Also, I wanna forewarn everyone that I won't be updating this as regularly as "In Our Nature" so it might be a good idea to follow it to keep up-to-date.

In many ways, Jazax thought his job was terrible. He was working for some pretty strange people lately, rubbing elbows with overly-aggressive oddballs. Y’know, real questionable types. They were tall fellows, and he already knew it wasn’t a good idea to trust anybody tall. They were also from another planet, but who was he to judge them for that? Some kinda bigot or something? Nah, he didn’t know the meaning of the word. Anybody’s coin was good coin.

Still, it did make his allegiance to these tall, angry aliens kinda strange when he thought about it. Like maybe it was some kinda crime against nature, some sort of treason against the entire world he lived on. He didn’t care much about the world, but hey, it had all his stuff on it. So maybe, he thought, these were actually the bad guys. And he was helping them.

But, on the other hand, he was being paid to blow things up.

So he was willing to ignore all that other stuff. As long as they kept asking him to explode things for them, he’d be as faithful as a goblin could be.

“Yo, Jazax, you in there?” A bug-eyed goblin with an overly-large engineer’s badge pinned to his chest leaned over, knocking his hand on Jazax’s soot-covered helmet, “You done with that one yet, huh? You been stuck on that one stick for ages.”

Jazax shot an annoyed glance towards him, before getting an idea. Since he’d been stupid enough to bother him, he might as well put it to good use. Picking up the half-complete stick of dynamite, he held it forward under the other goblin’s nose, nearly clonking him with the thing.

“You got a way bigger schnozz than me, so tell me, Dezzak, does that smell right to you?” He asked with a perked eyebrow, “Or y’think I should add more clay to absorb the extra nitroglycerin? I added twice the normal amount, for more boom!”

“Wh-What’re you crazy?!” Dezzak shimmied back, “Keep that thing away from me!”

“What? Afraid of one little stick of dynamite?” Jazax shot him a mocking grin.

“You sappers are crazy!” Dezzak furrowed his brow, “Not all of us wanna blow ourselves up, y’know!”

“Pfft! And you really call yourself a goblin?” Jazax snickered, casually setting the unfinished stick of dynamite down onto his blackened worktable.

Dezzak just shook his head in something that was either disbelief, amusement, or pity. Jazax didn’t really care which. With a snort and a shrug of indifference, he went back to work. No sooner had he started back up, already adding a few more drops of nitroglycerin to the powder, when another distraction broke his concentration.

“Hey! Jaz!” A familiar female voice called, drawing nearer, “What’cha workin’ on?”

“Oh, hey Mal,” He looked up briefly, “Just the usual. You lookin’ for Zeek?”

Mal scrunched up her less-than-pretty face, bringing a finger up to twirl it in her messy black pigtail.

“What? No, why would I be lookin’ for him?” She glanced aside, before quickly looking back, “Why? Did he say somethin’ about me?”

“Nope,” Jazax snickered, “Not a single thing. It’s like he don’t even remember you exist!”

Mal looked over at him flatly, putting a hand on her hip.

“You’re lucky you’re holding an explosive, or I’d punch you in the nose, Jazax.”

Jazax just grinned at her mischievously, looking back to the dynamite.

“Yeah yeah yeah, that’s what you say every time, Mal,” He chuckled, “If I didn’t know better, I would think it’s me you had the hots for, not Zeek.”

“I don’t got the hots for Zeek!” Mal growled, stopping half-way through the gesture of smacking him in the back of the head, “Ooh, you’re lucky, Jaz.”

“Yeah yeah, real lucky,” He grunted, focusing his attention back on the dynamite.

Maybe just a few more drops…

“I don’t even like Zeek,” Mal shrugged, crossing her arms across her chest, “He’s got a huge chin, and he’s way too short for me. Plus he doesn’t have any money.”

“No money?” Another voice interjected, “What’re you talkin’ about me for?”

Jazax grinned, not looking up from the dynamite. Even without looking, he could just tell Mal was blushing.

“Oh! Hey, Zeek! I wasn’t talking about you!” She cleared her throat awkwardly, “Wh-What’re you doin’ sneakin’ around like that?! Sappers shouldn’t sneak!”

“Sorry, Mal,” Zeek chuckled before patting Jazax on the shoulder, “But I gotta borrow this guy for a minute!”

“What’s up?” Jazax asked without looking up, “Kinda busy here.”

“Eh, don’t act like you can’t rig up dynamite with your eyes closed, Jaz,” Zeek said before pausing to add, “Though it smells like you should put in more sobents. The nitroglycerin is kinda strong on this one. What’s the weight strength we’re lookin’ at here?”

“Well, I was supposed to make 20% strength but those ones are always so small---”

“Don’t I know it!”

“---so I doubled it to 40% and just sorta kept goin’ as far as it could take me, y’know?”

Zeek nodded, pausing to put a hand on his chin. He had to admit, Mal was right. It really was pretty big, now that he thought about it.

“Well, I think you can run at 60% weight for this size. Anythin’ bigger and you wanna start bundling individual sticks, since---”

“Jeez, you two are a right pair of walking non-tax-deductible accidents, aren’tcha?” Mal put a hand on her hip, “No way either of you are gonna make it outta this war alive.”

“Oh yeah?” Jazax perked an eyebrow, “Why’s that?”

“Yeah, you questionin’ our skills?” Zeek feigned offense.

“Need I remind you, lady,” Jazax looked up at her with a grin, “We two are the only sappers been here since the start of the siege.”

“That’s right,” Zeek nodded, “And we’re the only ones gonna be here at the end, too!”

“Being the only sappers who haven’t blown yourselves up is fine and all,” Mal crossed her arms, “But dont’cha think you might be tempting fate right now?”

She paused to gesture to the dynamite in Jazax’s hands. In response, the both of them just grinned, taking fiendish delight at that very possibility.


	2. Two Hundred

Jazax drummed his hands against the char-covered iron helmet in his lap as he waited. To his side, Zeek had finished adjusting his goggles and was busy shoving as many spare sticks of dynamite as he could into the waistband of his shorts. Jazax was pretty sure they’d once been trousers, but the pant legs had gotten either burned or blown off at some point. Behind them, Dezzak was standing on a crate, silently pouring a large sack of gunpowder into the massive barrel strapped to Jazax’s back.

A third goblin wearing a bandolier of dynamite across his chest approached, busying himself with adjusting the bandolier so it was even across his chest. He lacked the various scars and singes of his compatriots, and the nervous look in his eyes was evidence enough that this guy wouldn’t make it past the day.

Jazax didn’t want to pay him any mind. No point. He was only temporary. But Zeek, ever the optimist, finished shoving dynamite in his pants and looked over at the newcomer. Jazax groaned, knowing that acknowledgement of his presence was all it’d take the new guy to start talking to them. And sure enough...

“So you two are the, um, the old timers everyone’s been talkin’ about?” He asked, looking between them both, “What’d you two do to get so famous?”

“We haven’t died yet,” Zeek grinned, earning a quizzical look.

“I see? That’s impressive, I guess? Oh, right. Introductions. My name’s Wirt Fizzlefuse.”

“Oh yeah?” Zeek nodded in disinterest, “Like the rich Fizzlefuses of Blackwater Cove?”

“The very same!” Wirt grinned proudly.

Jazax rolled his eyes, intending to stay out of the conversation. The last thing he needed to do before work was talk to some spoiled rich kid. It was souring the pre-explosion period.

“Jeez, what’re you doin’ as a sapper?” Zeek furrowed his brow, “You got money, don’tcha?”

“Well, yeah! We’re rich!”

“Right, so you got somethin’ to live for. Weird you’d end up here, then.”

Wirt’s eyebrow rose, his expression one of confusion, but Zeek kept talking.

“Well, anyway, I’m Zeek Rapidsnap and that over there is my buddy Jazax.”

“What’s the family name?” Wirt asked, but Zeek shook his head.

Jazax wrinkled his nose, glancing aside. Why did they always have to ask that?

“He don’t got one.”

“How come?”

“Well, I guess you could say he’s sorta like an orph---”

“My parents sold me to the Cartel as a baby,” Jazax sniffed, as he briskly set his helmet on his head, “Borrowed money but couldn’t pay back the debt.”

“Oh,” Wirt rubbed his neck sheepishly, “Sorry for bringin’ it up---”

“It’s whatever. I don’t care. But, y’know, there’s an important lesson there.”

“Huh? Lesson?”

“Yeah,” Jazax nodded, “Always account for interest.”

“...And finished,” Dezzak sighed, sealing the barrel closed, “You guys are all good to go.”

“Sheesh! About time, Topnozzle!” Zeek crossed his arms, “You’re gettin’ slower at this every time. Ain’t you supposed to be gettin’ faster with experience?”

“One would think,” Dezzak shrugged, “But every time I have to do this, I’m more and more convinced you two are gonna explode in the middle of things.”

“We’re not naturally explosive,” Zeek grumbled, adjusting his dynamite-filled pants, “Not yet anyway.”

“Hey, Dez, you should engineer somethin’ for that,” Jazax grinned, earning a roll of the eyes.

“Sure, Jazax, I’ll put it on the docket. Right after your previously requested self-extending workstation.”

Jazax squinted, turning in his seat so he could look at Dezzak past the barrel.

“You bein’ funny with me, Topnozzle?”

In response, Dezzak crossed his arms.

“I don’t take orders from sappers, alright? You guys are paid to explode yourselves, you’re not exactly high status around here.”

“Wait, what?” Wirt furrowed his brow, “We’re supposed to explode...ourselves?”

The other three goblins looked over at him flatly. Just how rich and removed from reality was this guy that he’d never even seen sappers in action before?

“Not technically the goal, but pretty much,” Zeek nodded, “What’d you think I was sticking these things in my pants for? My own amusement?”

“I dunno, Wirt shrugged nervously, “I thought we’d, like, throw ‘em from far off or somethin’ like that.”

“Nope,” Jazax shook his head, “We’re gonna run straight at the walls and, then...boom!”

He made an explosion with his hands for emphasis, grinning as Wirt grew pale.

“W-Wait,” He said as he quickly grabbed Dezzak by the shoulders, “You gotta reassign me to engineering! Somethin’ else! Anything! I’ll even be a janitor!”

Dezzak pulled Wirt’s hands off of him before smoothing down his clothes.

“Listen, kid, it ain’t my business and it ain’t my problem. I’m just an engineer. I ain’t in charge of assignments.”

“But I’m gonna die if I stay with these guys,” Wirt frowned, gesturing wildly to the two grinning sappers.

Dezzak just shrugged in disinterest.

“Sucks for you,” He said before turning to leave.

Wirt blinked at him for a moment before holding out a hand.

“Wait!” He shrieked desperately, his voice cracking, “You help me out, and I’ll pay you!”

Dezzak paused, glancing back.

“How much?”

Wirt thought about it for a moment before responding.

“Ten gold pieces!”

“A measly ten gold?” Dezzak snorted, “Pass.”

He turned to leave again but Wirt held out his hand once more.

“Fifteen!”

Dezzak stopped again.

“Five hundred gold, or no deal.”

“Five hundred?! No way! You know how many things I could buy with five hundred gold?!”

“Betcha can’t buy much if you’re a stain at the bottom of some wall,” Dezzak shrugged.

Zeek and Jazax looked at each other in amusement at the scene laying out before them. Wirt looked down in thought for a minute before giving his counter-offer.

“One hundred gold.”

“Five hundred.”

“Two hundred, final offer.”

Dezzak shook his head.

“Five hundred gold, or no deal,” He repeated.

Wirt scoffed and crossed his arms.

“I’d rather die than pay five hundred gold for anything!”

“Guess you’ll die,” Dezzak shrugged before turning away one final time.

Wirt didn’t stop him. His shoulder slumped and his head hung forward, the telltale signs of a goblin who had given up. This made both Jazax and Zeek grin like madmen. They gave each other a tacit nod before slinking up on either side of Wirt.

“Say, Fizzlefuse,” Jazax began, “We couldn’t help overhearin’ your little conversation with Dezzak back there.”

“So sorry your deal didn’t work out,” Zeek added.

“Yeah well, don’t you worry, buddy,” Jazax said as he patted Wirt on the shoulder, “We’ll make sure you blow up in a manner fittin’ of a guy of your wealth.”

“Speakin’ of wealth…” Zeek tapped his chin innocently, “How much was it you offered Topnozzle? Two hundred gold?”

Wirt nodded glumly, still not catching their drift.

“Say, y’know,” Jazax cleared his throat, “I bet any goblin in their right mind would be willin’ to help you for two hundred gold.”

“Topnozzle ain’t in his right mind,” Zeek chimed in.

“Huh?” Wirt perked an eyebrow, “What, you guys sayin’ you’ll help me get reassigned?”

“Sure, sure,” Jazax smiled, “For two hundred gold.”


	3. Khaz Modan, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some deliberating and decided that this story would work better as a series of vignettes, showing different snapshots of pivotal points in Jazax’s life. They will be roughly broken down into three main eras: his experiences during the Second War, the chronicle of his relationship with the woman he married, and his eventual decision to become a priest. 
> 
> I will try to clarify whenever there’s a time skip in the notes. At present, this is during Year 5 still.

“Yo, should we be this far from the camp?” Mal looked over at her shoulder nervously, “I mean, I ain’t scared or nothin’ but---”

“You worry too much, Mal,” Zeek shrugged, leaning down to scoop up a few bottles of ice cold lake water, “Besides, you want us to test this thing in the middle of the camp? What if it blows up, huh?”

“Pretty sure the orcs would be mad about that,” Jazax added, focusing more on gently taking the device out of his backpack.

It was a beautiful thing to behold, really. They’d nicknamed it the Big Mama and even taken the time to make a custom bright red shell, adding one last minute sloppy skull painted to the side. The Big Mama had as much force as a whole batch of dynamite, at least two or three crates full. And of the good stuff, not that weak ‘safety regulated’ stuff they were forced to use for their work. Running his hands over the side of the missle, Jazax couldn’t help but grin when he considered the sheer amount of explosive power he held. Seeing the bomb, Mal took a nervous step back.

“That ain’t gonna do nothin’ to save ya, if this baby goes off prematurely,” Jazax said without looking up at her, “This thing’s got enough blast to make one big crater outta this whole lake.”

“That’s why we need the water,” Zeek explained, “Gotta keep the explosion temperature controlled. Don’t want it burnin’ up before it’s done the job.”

“This thing works out, we can blast a hole straight through that whole mountain,” Jazax grinned, pausing to point up to the Ironforge Mountains, “Then we can finally get outta this stupid place.”

“Yeah, the altitude really messin’ with me,” Zeek added, “Plus I hate the cold.”

“It definitely ain’t pleasant to fly through,” Mal agreed, crossing her arms, “Specially with all those snowstorms. Honestly, I dunno how those dwarves live in a place like this.”

“Don’t forget the gnomes! The oh-so-precious gnomes!” Zeek said as he passed Jazax the water, “Stupid gnomes think they’re so smart, but they won’t be laughin’ when we bring that stupid mountain down on their stupid heads!”

“Oh, hey, you guys hear the rumor?” Mal asked, looking between the other two.

“I don’t really care about rumors,” Jazax said bluntly before turning his full attention to adding water to the specified cooling ports of the missile’s body.

“Well, I heard that the humans are in talks with the elves. Y’know, the high elves? They might be joinin’ the war.”

“Elves, huh?” Zeek perked an eyebrow, “I never liked elves. Too uppity.”

“You don’t like anybody, do you, Rapidsnap?” Jazax paused to look up at him.

“And what’s that s’posta mean?”

“Just seems like you got a problem with everybody who ain’t a goblin.”

“And what of it, huh?” Zeek crossed his arms defensively, “Everybody’s always lookin’ down on us goblins, so why don’t we look down on them for a change?”

Jazax sighed, shaking his head and turning back to focus on the bomb. But Zeek clearly wasn’t satisfied to end it at that, and so he kept on talking.

“I mean, what’s it to you anyway?” He shrugged, “Maybe you got the problem, eh?”

Jazax just rolled his eyes, shutting the cooling ports once they were filled. He’d never understand that kind of mentality. Sure, sure, goblins were great. But he’d be the first to admit there were some pretty blatant drawbacks to being a goblin. The height thing---or rather, lack thereof---wasn’t really that great to deal with. And the whole effectual slave to the Trade Prince thing. Nevermind the actual slaves, too. But the worst part was definitely the competition. No matter the situation, everything always had to be a competition. If there were two goblins in the same room, they’d definitely be fighting to be the most so-and-so. It didn’t really matter what. The way he saw it, goblins already had enough competition amongst each other, why bring other races into that mix? It was easier to just live and let live.

“Look, are we gonna fire this thing or what?” Jazax finally responded, stepping away from the missile, “I ain’t out here freezin’ my tail off just so we can chit chat about elves or whatever.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zeek waved a hand dismissively, crouching down beside the missile, “Just gimme a sec to get this baby primed…”

Jazax rubbed his hands together, half from excitement and half to rub away the cold. Then he turned to Mal with a grin.

“You ready to see what the Big Mama can do?” He asked, before noticing Mal was busy squinting at something off in the distance.

“What’s that?” She said after a moment, bringing her hand over her eyes, “Looks like there’s somebody walkin’ around over there.”

“Who would be out in the middle of a snowstorm, eh?” Jazax shrugged, before pausing, “I mean, except us.”

“You’re prolly just seein’ things, Mal,” Zeek looked up from the missile, “We pushed the dwarves back to the mountain, remember? The gnomes, too. There ain’t no way anybody’s out here ‘cept us.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Mal frowned, “Still, it looks like they’ve got a fire going, too.”

“Huh? A what now?” Jazax furrowed his brow, looking over through the snow to where Mal had been looking.

“Look, you can see the smoke and everything,” She shrugged, pointing. 

Sure enough, the dark grey smoke was visible even through the snow, albeit faintly. It didn’t look like the smoke of a campfire, though. It was much denser, like that of a chimney or something. Frowning, Jazax reached over and slapped Zeek on the shoulder.

“Hey, she’s right. Somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on over there,” He said quietly, as though afraid the wind would carry his voice over, “We should go check it out.”

“Us?” Zeek perked an eyebrow, “We’re just sappers, Jaz. What’re we gonna do?”

“Well…” Jazax tried not to grin, “We could bring the Big Mama, give it some live testing...”

At his words, Zeek’s expression lit up, and his mouth formed a crooked smile. The temptation to test out the Big Mama on some humans was clearly too tempting to pass up.

“Oh no no no,” Mal crossed her arms, “You guys are crazy. I don’t want anythin’ to do with this.”

“Then why don’t you just head back to camp if you’re so scared,” Zeek shrugged.

Mal frowned, his blatant dismissal clearly breaking her little black heart. At least, it was clear to Jazax. Zeek didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just didn’t care. Either way, Mal hugged her arms a little tighter.

“Whatever! Go blow yourselves up, stupid sappers!” She snapped, turning on her heel and marching away from them.

“Pfft, women,” Zeek snorted, “Always with the theatrics. Can’t stand ‘em when they’re like that….which is all the time, am I right? Ha!”

Jazax just looked over at Zeek flatly.

“Is there anybody you don’t got somethin’ to complain about?” He asked with an exasperated sigh, to which Zeek just shrugged.


	4. Khaz Modan, Part 2

Jazax frowned as he watched his friend cough forcefully, wincing in pain each time. Once his ragged breathing had quieted for a moment, Zeek looked up at Jazax.

“So… uh, how’s it… how’s it look?” He asked weakly.

Jazax reluctantly cast his eyes down over Zeek’s body, quietly taking note of the several arrows that had pierced deeply into his chest. His dark blood was trickling into a nearby pool in the snow below them and when Zeek shivered every few moments, Jazax knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“You’re, uh…” Jazax trailed off, trying to find a way to deliver the news delicately.

When he took too long, Zeek laughed softly, wincing from the pain of movement as he did so.

“Ah, you don’t… you don’t gotta… say nothin’ now,” He grinned darkly, “N-Not when you’re… makin’ a face like that.”

Jaxax just frowned as Zeek gave a pained laugh again, his laugh quickly devolving into a fit of strained coughs. More blood spilled out with each cough.

“I’ll go back,” Jazax said firmly, pausing to glance back over his shoulder towards the lodge in the distance, “I’ll bring the Big Mama and send those elves---”

“Elves,” Zeek spat, like the word left a bitter taste in his mouth, “Of all things… it had to be… elves.”

Jazax went quiet again, listening as Zeek took a ragged breath.

“What...kinda sapper… gets killed… by elves?” Zeek sighed, shaking his head as much as he could without pain, “I always… wanted to… go out… with a bang.”

“I hear ya, buddy,” Jazax said quietly, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically helpless.

He was no stranger to death or loss. It was sort of hard not to be used to it, as a sapper. Even so, this moment particularly stung. He didn’t have many people he could truly call friends.For whatever reason, most people seemed to find him unlikable. Their loss, he figured. That was the attitude he’d chosen to take about the matter. Even so, even he wasn’t above feeling lonely sometimes and seeking companions. He’d never admit it aloud, of course---he did have his pride, after all---but he’d been really happy to call Zeek his friend.

“Hey, Jaz?” Zeek coughed, suddenly breaking him from his thoughts.

“Oh, uh, yeah, buddy?” Jazax tried to put on a friendly tone, “What’s up?”

“Will you do somethin’ for me?” Zeek asked.

Jazax frowned, but nodded.

“Sure thing, buddy. Whatddya need?”

“When you...get back to camp,” Zeek paused to cough hoarsely, “Will you… find Mal? Tell her… I’m sorry.”

Jazax just wordlessly nodded, and Zeek smiled softly before coughing again.

“Won’t be… won’t be long now,” Zeek said grimly, making Jazax feel his heart clench.

“I… I feel like I should be sayin’ somethin’ here,” He admitted quietly to his dying friend, “Like, I should be sayin’ somethin’ important. Somethin’ good for you to go out on, y’know?”

Zeek just snorted.

“Eh, you ain’t… got the best… way with words, Jaz,” Zeek chuckled softly, “You’ll probably… just say… somethin’ stupid.”

The two goblins shared amused grins.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Jazax nodded, more than a little bitterness seeping into his voice.

He hated this situation. There was nothing he could do. They were too far from camp. No way he’d be able to drag Zeek all the way back in time. In the back of his mind, he almost wished he’d followed through with his interest in alchemy. Maybe he would’ve had some healing potions with him, then. But as it was, he was useless. And that made him very bitter.

“Hey… Jaz,” Zeek said, his voice a bit weaker, “Wanna… hear a… joke?”

Jazax furrowed his brow, not really understanding, but nodded. In response, Zeek just snorted.

“I’m a… goblin,” He said with a growing smile, “I don’t… make jokes, I make… money.”

Jazax rolled his eyes as Zeek smiled to himself like he was the cleverest goblin in the world. Like he hadn’t heard that one before. Jazax looked back down to say something sarcastic but stopped short. Zeek’s eyes were closed and his breathing was still, though the smile remained on his lips. 

Well then, Jazax thought with a frown, that’s that. His heart clenched bitterly again and he lowered his head solemnly. Much to his chagrin, his moment of mourning was interrupted by a voice. His own voice. Cursing his own stupid emotions, Jazax reached a hand up to furiously wipe away the tears from his eyes. Why did he always have to cry?

It took several minutes of furious wiping before finally Jazax just gave up and succumbed to his misery. He hated crying, but it was pretty unavoidable for him. It wasn’t that he was ashamed to cry or anything. After all, he usually had a good reason. He just hated that it was something he couldn’t control.

Control and chaos were two very important things to Jazax, and he knew one could never exist without the other. It was useless to try to control everything, and it was dangerous to completely give in to chaos. The key was just trying to balance the two out. If a situation was chaotic, he’d try to control it. If a situation was controlled, he’d try to bring chaos. It was his own way of trying to bring some kind of sense and sanity to his otherwise insane life. Usually he was pretty good at it. Though for all his efforts, he could never seem to get control over his emotions.

Being so caught up in his own situation, Jazax didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching until they stopped right in front of him. Jazax looked up, expecting a high elf that’d followed them from the lodge. But it was a goblin. It was Mal.

She looked down at Zeek’s body with a scrunched brow, before looking at Jazax’s sniveling face with something rather like pity. Jazax should’ve been offended, but he was a bit too preoccupied with his deep feelings of loss. After a moment, she crouched down beside Jazax, nudging him with her elbow.

“C’mon, Jaz,” She said quietly, “You’re gonna freeze out here.”

She reached out and took Jazax’s hand, helping him up. He looked at her a moment, blinking away his slowing tears, before looking back at Zeek’s smiling corpse. He went to say something, but Mal just pulled him ahead, away from the body. Upon realizing that she was trying to lead him back to camp, Jazax dug his heels into the snow and pulled against her. She looked back at him with a perked brow.

“What about Zeek?” He said as he looked back at the corpse, “We can’t just leave him.”

“Look around, Jazax,” Mal sighed, “The ground’s way too frozen here to bury him. Might as well let his body do some good. Feed the animals or somethin’ y’know? Circle of life.”

Jazax turned back to her incredulously. Since when had Mal become such a cold-hearted pragmatist? Jazax pulled away from her again, unable to help growing angry. Even if he knew her logic was right, he was never going to admit such a thing. He turned back to face the corpse, looking down at what he had called his friend. His heart clenched again and he turned away in pain. His gaze fell upon the lake, where they’d collected water for the Big Mama not so long ago. It’d been an hour ago, at most, and yet it felt like it was a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, Jazax paused. In the reflection of the lake, he saw it. The massive dwarven dam. Even he had to admit it was some impressive construction. And that made him feel incredibly bitter. A dark thought crossed his mind, and maybe it was just his high emotions talking, but it seemed at the moment like a very good idea.

Stepping back, he crouched down into the snow, and slipped the massive missile from his back, setting it into the snow. Beside him, Mal looked at him with an uncertain expression.

“Uh, Jaz?” She took a hesitant step towards him, “What’re you doin’ with that?”

“Dun Morogh took somethin’ of mine,” Jazax grumbled, preparing the missile, “So I’m gonna take somethin’ too.”

Mal watched in horror as he angled the missile right at the dam, and the color drained from her face.

“Jazax, I know you’re upset,” She said nervously, her voice shaking, “But that ain’t a good idea.”

“Maybe not,” Jazax shrugged nonchalantly, “But I don’t really care right now.”

He leaned down to press the shiny red button that’d popped out after the priming sequence was completed. Just before he could press down, however, something hard hit into the back of his head. He fell forward into the snow, wincing in pain, before another blow came. And then his vision went black.


	5. Bad Investment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first true time-skip! This chapter is set in Year 7, which is following the end of Tides of Darkness but before Beyond the Dark Portal. The First Horde has been defeated after failing to capture Lordaeron’s Capital City due to Gul’dan peacing out, and the Orcish internment has begun. The timeline I’ve personally decided to go with was that the Steamwheedle Cartel ceased their involvement with the Horde following the failed siege of Silvermoon City.

“Is that what he calls it?” Jazax snorted, tapping his fingers against his cup while trying not to seem too annoyed.

“Yep, a bad investment,” Mal nodded, looking a bit bristled herself.

“It was,” Dezzak sniffed, “It’ll be far more profitable for the Cartel to just stay out of conflicts like this from now on.”

“That’s the plan,” Mal nodded again, “Guess the Trade Prince must’ve lost a bit more than he lets on, eh?”

“Well, that ain’t none of my business,” Jazax shrugged, taking a sip from his drink.

“Oh, Jaz, I almost forgot,” Dezzak turned to face him, “Is it true they’re renaming Blackwater Cove?”

“Yup,” Jazax nodded, “From now on, they’re gonna be callin’ it Booty Bay. Kinda like the sound of that, myself.”

“Booty Bay, huh?” Dezzak perked an eyebrow, before shrugging, “Eh, don’t make no difference to me, really. I got myself a good little gig out in Gadgetzan, workin’ for the Waterworks Company.”

“Gadgetzan?” Mal snorted, “Have fun in the desert with all those scorpids. Me, I’m gonna be in Ratchet, helpin’ to build some new zeppelins in the savannas just outside town.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Dezzak chuckled, “Watch out for the savanna prowlers, huh?”

“Forget the prowlers, it’s the raptors I’m actually worried about.”

As the two of them got to chattering about the dangerous wildlife of the respective regions, Jazax couldn’t help feeling a little bitter. After everything they’d done, all they’d sacrificed and all the people who died, ultimately the Trade Prince didn’t really care. And why would he? It wasn’t like Jazax was all that fond of the ‘cause’ or whatever it was the Orcs were fighting for---honestly, it was a bit unclear---but at the same time, it stung to know that everything they’d fought for was in vain. That Zeek’s death was in vain.

“Yo, Jaz,” Mal waved her hand in front of his face, “You in there, buddy?”

“Yeah, what?” Jazax looked up, easily able to tuck away all the grim thoughts from moments before.

Compartmentalizing things that were troublesome helped a lot, he found. Better to just set it aside than worry about something you can’t change, right? No point in getting antsy about it.

“I said, is it true you’ll be workin’ for Revilgaz directly?” Mal asked.

Jazax nodded, taking a sip from his drink. 

He only knew some passing information about Baron Revilgaz, which he’d picked up from these last few months in Blackwater C---Booty Bay. Unsurprisingly, the guy was a pirate. How could anybody wrangle up the Blackwater Raiders if they weren’t? Also unsurprisingly, he was wealthy. But anything beyond that was a mystery. Nobody was really too keen to talk about the goblin, probably for fear the walls had ears. Better safe than sorry, and all that.

“Never thought I’d see the day you became a pirate, Jaz,” Mal grinned, elbowing his side playfully.

“Well, maybe they’ll stick to his sapper roots,” Dezzak smirked, “Maybe they’ll fire him outta the cannons.”

“I ain’t that lucky,” Jazax sighed, his voice accidentally betraying a bit too much of his weariness.

“Nah, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Mal frowned, slapping his arm sympathetically, “Revilgaz ain’t a bloodthirsty guy, from what I heard.”

“You heard things?” Jazax perked an eyebrow at her, “I can’t seem to get one word about him.”

“Well, the difference is that I’m a pretty girl,” Mal shrugged, “People will tell me whatever I wanna know if I just bat my eyes at ‘em a bit.”

Jazax and Dezzak looked at each other flatly, silently challenging the other to break first. After a moment, both of them laughed heartily at Mal’s expense.

“Sure, sure! Pretty!” Dezzak snorted, wiping away a tear.

“Whatever you say, toots!” Jazax snickered.

Mal’s cheeks went red and she reached out, cuffing both of them in the back of the head in unison.

“Yeah, well, you two ain’t lookers either,” She grumbled, sitting back and crossing her arms, “And no money, either!

“Ouch,” Jazax frowned, “Now that one actually hits home.”

“Hey, I got money!” Dezzak scowled, “Engineers make good coin, y’know!”

“Bet they make less than pilots,” Mal smirked, earning a deeper scowl from Dezzak, even though he didn’t deny it.

Jazax took a sip from his drink, glancing aside and hoping the conversation wouldn’t turn to him. So, naturally, of course it did.

“What about you, Jaz?” Mal looked over, a triumphant smile on her lips, “How much do sappers make?”

“Probably a lot, right?” Dezzak asked hopefully, “You must make a lot, bein’ so willing to blow yourself up?”

Jazax cleared his throat, taking another sip from his drink to avoid answering. They stared impatiently the entire time, clearly refusing to let him simply not answer. Why did they always have to be so nosy, he lamented to himself.

“Uhh,” Jazax tentatively began, clearing his throat again, “Well, I mean, I guess that really depends on what you think a lot is.”

“Y’know,” Mal shrugged, “A lot.”

“More than 50 silver,” Dezzak clarified.

“Well, then, uh, no,” Jazax coughed, “Not exactly that…”

Both Mal and Dezzak exchanged glances, clearly noting his odd behavior.

“Still silver though, right?” Dezzak asked slowly.

Jazax shook his head before taking another sip from his drink. This was getting awkward, and quickly.

“You only get paid copper?” Mal gasped, wide-eyed, “For bein’ a sapper, of all things?! Who would ever take that job for so little?!”

Jazax didn’t say anything, just taking another long, awkward sip of his drink while he stared at the tavern floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The silence drew on for a moment before Mal gasped again. Jazax winced.

“You…” She leaned forward onto the table, expression flabbergasted, “You don’t make anything, do you?!”

Dezzak was so wide-eyed that it looked like his eyes were about to fall out of his head.

“Wait, what?” Dezzak turned quickly towards Jazax, “But you---I mean, why would you---that doesn’t make any---how?!”

Jazax shifted uncomfortably a moment before sighing, setting down his now-empty mug in a defeated way. No point in hiding it now, he supposed.

“Uh, well, y’see,” Jazax began slowly, “I don’t exactly got a choice.”

At this, both Mal and Dezzak cocked their heads to the side curiously, prompting him to continue.

“When, uh, my parents sold me to the Cartel…” Jazax trailed off, hoping they’d get the gist. 

Instead, they both just cocked their heads to the other side. With a sigh, he continued.

“I’m technically Cartel property, okay?” He blurted quickly, glancing aside so he didn’t have to make eye contact with them.

“You’re a slave?!” Dezzak gaped incredulously, as Mal covered her mouth with her hand in surprise.

“Uh, well, no,” Jazax rubbed his neck awkwardly, “I only belong to the Cartel til I can pay back what my parents were paid. With interest, of course.”

“But you don’t even get paid for your work!” Mal furrowed her brow, “How are you supposed to do that?”

“That’s the question, huh?” Jazax chuckled dryly, before giving an exhausted sigh.


	6. Free Smokes

“So, Mister Jazax, I’m told you’re rather skilled with explosives.”

Jazax nodded briskly, glancing over at the drunken dwarf who had collapsed onto the table beside theirs. He was snoring rather loudly.

“Gonna need some kinda verbal confirmation on that,” Revilgaz said as he lifted his cigar to his mouth, “For legal purposes.”

“Yeah, I’m real good at makin’ stuff explode,” Jazax elaborated, and Revilgaz nodded as he lit the cigar.

“That’ll do.”

Jazax waited tensely for the pirate to speak further, but he didn’t. 

Jazax had no idea what to expect from Revilgaz, and he hated going in blind like this. He wasn’t sure if the goblin would take offense to him looking directly at him, so he stared at the end of the lit cigar instead. Revilgaz followed his gaze to the cigar and perked a greasy black eyebrow. Then, without saying anything about it, he reached into his cigar box. He then held a cigar across the table, offering it to Jazax, who squinted back at him suspiciously. But before he could even voice his concerns, the other goblin chuckled.

“No catch,” Revilgaz grinned, his sharp teeth clenching his own cigar in place.

Jazax perked an eyebrow but leaned forward and took the cigar, pausing to let Revilgaz light the end for him, before leaning back in his seat.

“I don’t discuss business without a strong drink and a good smoke,” Revilgaz said as he sat back as well, puffing steadily at his cigar.

“Eyy, my kinda guy,” Jazax said, unable to resist a small nervous grin.

“You lookin’ to make a good impression, kid?” Revilgaz asked.

“If I make a good impression, that’ll be a first for me,” Jazax shrugged, to which Revilgaz just snorted in amusement.

“Alright, alright. Then let’s get down to business before I decide I like you. Don’t wanna break your losin’ streak, after all.”

Jazax nodded, sitting up a bit.

“So whaddya want me to blow up?” He asked.

“Whatever I want you to,” Revilgaz answered with a noticeable firmness to his tone, despite continuing to casually puff his cigar.

“Uhh, anything specific in mind?” Jazax asked cautiously, to which Revilgaz chuckled.

“I think maybe you might not be understanding the situation,” He said, pausing to puff his cigar before elaborating, “This ain’t one little job here. I want you on hand. Permanently.”

“Wait, huh?” Jazax furrowed his brow, “But, uh, the Cartel… the Trade Prince… I ain’t exactly free to change jobs, y’know?”

“Oh don’t make no mistake, you’re still here on behalf of the Steamwheedle Cartel,” Revilgaz reassured him, “Somethin’ about ‘fostering a better working relationship’ between the Blackwater Raiders and the Trade Coalition.”

Revilgaz paused again to puff his cigar, leaning his elbows on the table.

“But I don’t really care about all that,” He continued, waving a hand dismissively over his shoulder, “What I’m interested in is the explosives.”

Jazax perked an eyebrow, tacitly urging him to continue.

“Y’see, word is that the Bloodsail Buccaneers have been gearin’ up to attack outgoing ships on the way to Ratchet. Passenger ships mostly, with low freight hold.”

Jazax nodded as he listened to Revilgaz explain. He didn’t know a whole lot about ships, but he knew getting attacked was bad, at least.

“We have a few cannons, but we can’t add more unless we sail at half passenger capacity to make up for the displaced weight. And that means lower profits,” Revilgaz frowned, “And that’s, uh, outta the question.”

Jazax nodded again, but paused after a moment. He furrowed his brow, not sure where he was supposed to come in just yet. Sensing the need to explain further, Revilgaz cleared his throat before continuing.

“That’s why I’m hiring you to find a way to give the cannons we do have an extra punch, got it? And maybe if you do that good enough, we can find a couple other uses for you around here, too.”

“Hmm, well maybe I could improve the gunpowder, but---”

“Great,” Revilgaz nodded, cutting him off, “Then it’s settled.”

“Err, but I dunno if---”

Revilgaz lowered his hands onto the table, rather loudly, giving Jazax a start.

“Look, can you do it or not, kid?”

Jazax furrowed his brow, lowering his own cigar from his mouth as he considering it. It wouldn’t be too hard, he supposed. But an indefinite job? That didn’t sound ideal…

“Time is money,” Revilgaz said as he looked across the table impatiently, making Jazax begin to sweat.

“Yeah, I can do it,” Jazax said after a moment, more out of fear of what the pirate would say if he didn’t agree.

But as soon as he did, Revilgaz’s mood brightened up again and he sat back in his seat with a grin.

“Great. Then meet me on the roof tomorrow morning,” Revilgaz said as he stood up from the table, “I’ll see to it that you get whatever you need, but it’s coming outta your pay.”

Jazax looked up at Revilgaz in surprise, blinking curiously. Had nobody thought to inform the pirate about his… rather particular situation?

“Pay…?” He managed to mumble, earning a raised eyebrow from Revilgaz.

“Hey, don’t get greedy, kid. We can negotiate your wage later,” Revilgaz sniffed, switching his cigar to the other side of his mouth, “First I wanna see what you can do, and if you’re worth the investment.”

Jazax went to respond but instead yelped as the hot ashes from his own lowered cigar fell against his knee. He looked down, hastily wiping them away. Frowning momentarily at the grey streaks against the rough cloth of his pant leg, he looked back up towards Revilgaz. But the pirate was gone, having already taken his leave.

Jazax leaned forward, resting his chin against his palm, and brought the cigar back to his lips.

“Pay, huh…” He mumbled to himself, thinking about just what that meant.

If he was finally going to start making coin, then he could start saving to pay back his debt. Then he’d finally be a free man, free of the Cartel’s control. It was almost overwhelming to consider. He wasn’t sure what life would even be like away from the Cartel. He’d have no problem earning money once he was free. After all, he had plenty of marketable skills. He was a great engineer, he’d even started to dabble in Alchemy lately, and he’d picked up plenty of foreign languages over the years. It just came in handy. People were always more willing to work with you if you were speaking their language, after all. He’d even managed to pick up Orcish back during the Second War.

But the more he thought about it, the more he found himself longing for something else. Something more. Because as great as money was, there had always been something Jazax had wanted much more. Even more than explosives! It must’ve been his oldest wish, as it was certainly the oldest thing he could remember. After all, gold and explosives were pretty easy to obtain.

A family wasn’t.


	7. Bald Bartram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since the last chapter, eh? Anyway, this chapter is set eight years later, in Year 15 when the Twilight’s Hammer is being a general pain. Also, for reference to Jazax’s age, he was born in Year -12, or 12 years before the Dark Portal was opened. He was 17 during Year 5 (chapters 1 through 4). Now, in Year 15, he is 27. And yes, that means he is indeed 40 years old during In Our Nature.

“Eh? What’s this’n do?”

Jazax furrowed his brow, glancing over at the bald dwarf impatiently.

“Don’t touch that,” He sniffed, glancing back to the heap of wires he was digging his hands into, “It’ll explode.”

“How come I ain’t surprised... “ The dwarf sighed, shaking his shiny round head as he stepped away from the grinning goblin bobblehead.

The dwarf meandered to the other side of the room, his thick fingers tapping on the side of the crossbow slung over his shoulder. He peered at the various odd contraptions around the room before coming to a halt in front of a little black sphere. It was rather unassuming in appearance, especially compared to everything else in the room. His free hand moved towards the sphere before recoiling.

“Ah bet this one explodes tae, aye?” The dwarf glanced over warily.

“If I made it, and it’s in here, then yeah, it definitely explodes,” Jazax snorted, more interested in untangling the wires in that moment.

“Aye, but what is it?”

“What’s what?” Jazax briefly looked up in disinterest, “Oh, that? That's the Plan B.”

“Plan B?” The dwarf perked an eyebrow, “What’s the B for?”

“...Obviously, it’s B for… Bartram,” Jazax answered sarcastically, returning to his wires.

“Nae B for Bald?” Bartram grinned, the sarcasm going right over his bald head, “Did ye make that for me?”

“Jeez, you really ain’t a credit to your race’s intelligence, buddy, y’know that?” Jazax muttered under his breath, pushing his goggles up, “I make bombs. Now, you wanna take another guess what the B stands for, huh?”

“Awright, awright! Just a question, lad!” Bartrom furrowed his bushy brown brow, “How come yer sae crabbit?”

Jazax rolled his eyes. He didn’t even understand what that dwarf was saying half the time, and it definitely wasn’t a problem with his Common. Unfortunately, this was definitely one of the times he could figure the gist of what Bartram was talking about. He gave a quiet sigh, setting down his mess of wires and looking over towards the grimy window. Outside, it was a sunny day in Booty Bay. The orange sunset was glistening off of the crystal clear water like a mirror, and something about it made him nostalgic. The sad kind.

“I dunno,” Jazax shrugged a little, “Guess I have been kinda in a bad mood lately.”

“Ah suppose there’s a reason, aye?” Bartram perked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I guess, maybe, I dunno,” Jazax shrugged again, “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, no ye dinnae,” Bartram huffed, putting a hand on his staunch hip, “Dinnae think ye kin scouk it from me. A’ve known ye fer eight years, aye? A'd say we're mukkers. Thick as thieves! Literally! So just tell me awready, laddie. We dinnae have a’ day!”

Jazax furrowed his brow, only understanding about half of that. He was pretty sure half of those were made up words. Either way, Bartram was scowling at him impatiently, so he decided he’d better just say something.

“...Eight years already?” He frowned, his gaze moving back to the window, “And I’m still right here? Jeez…”

“Aye?” Bartram cocked his head to the side, “Well, where else would ye expect tae be?”

Jazax shrugged again, looking down to his workbench. It was rusty, and singed, and covered in soot. He frowned again.

“I feel like I’m the bench,” He mumbled, causing Bartram to raise an eyebrow.

“Huh? Er, what? Ye keep getting blown up but keep standing?”

“I mean, that’s a given,” Jazax shrugged once more, “I just mean that I feel… y’know… old?”

At this, Bartram set a hand on this round belly and let out a hearty laugh.

“Ye, old? Please! Gimme a break, laddie! Ye'r nae even in yer third decade! A'm awready intae mah second hunner years!”

“Hey, well, goblins don’t live all that long,” Jazax grumbled, glancing aside, “Mostly due to user error.”

“Aye, bit ye'v ne'er blown yersel' up. Nae tae death, anyway.”

“That ain’t the point, Baldy,” Jazax rolled his eyes, wiping his grease-covered hands onto his dirty coveralls, “Just feels like I’m goin’ nowhere real fast, y’know?”

“But where would ye even want tae go?” Bartram shrugged, “Seems like all yer kind wants tae be ‘ere in Booty Bay.”

“It ain’t where I am,” Jazax sighed, “It’s how, y’know? It don’t matter if I’m in Booty Bay, or Mudsprocket, or freakin’ Northrend. I ain’t really anywhere if I still belong to the Cartel.”

Bartram nodded thoughtfully, recalling the scraps he’d been told about the situation over the years. He didn’t really understand much about the deeper inner workings of the Cartels, even though he was employed by one himself. The other races were always welcome as hired muscle, maybe even foreman of some small scale operation. But there was a reason you never saw anything like a human Trade Prince. Beside the fact that the other races could never keep up, of course.

“That’s a real bee in yer bonnet, ain’t it, Jaz?” Bartram sighed, “Ever thought of just… goin’ away? Just disappearing?”

“And go where?” Jazax smiled bitterly, “There ain’t anywhere I can go that the Cartel won’t find me. You know that.”

“Then how come nae dae something else? Git more dosh?” Bartram suggested, “Ah bet th' Baron wouldn't mind ye givin’ us help on collection work.”

At this, Jazax paused. For the past eight years, he hadn’t done anything but work on explosives for Revilgaz’s fleet. Maybe a change of scenery would be just what he needed. And if it came with the possibility of getting more money, too… well, how could he say no to that?

“Alright, Baldy,” Jazax nodded after a moment, “But, wait, us? Who’s us?”

“Ah, right, right! Ye haven't even met mah partner Tezz yet!”

“Tezz?” Jazax asked, perking an eyebrow at the name.

It didn’t sound like a Dwarvish name to him. Not Dwarvish at all.

“Aye, she's mah dagger,” Bartram said with a firm nod of his head, “Bout as pointy as a dagger herself! Maybe tis just how ye Goblins are, eh?”

Jazax perked an eyebrow, his suspicions confirmed.

“A Goblin woman, huh?” He tapped a finger against his grease-stained chin, “Sounds like a pain.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Bartram snorted, twirling a finger around the curled end of his bushy brown mustache, “Ah reckon a’d find a demon more personable than her.”

“Yep,” Jazax nodded with a faint grin, “Definitely a Goblin woman.”


	8. Jolly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and Happy Feast of Winterveil!

“Happy Feast o’ Winterveil!” Bartram announced loudly as he staggered into the room, two large mugs of spiced nog in either hand.

Jazax furrowed his brow, not bothering to look up from where he was reading over some old engineering schematics by the fireplace.

“Awright, what’s th' matter wit ye, laddie?” Bartram harrumphed, approaching Jazax’s side, “Greatfather Winter only leave ye coal?”

Jazax looked up, going to give a snarky retort, but his words were stolen away as soon as he looked at the dwarf beside him. He was dressed like Greatfather Winter, including a red suit, long white beard, and even a hat covering his bald head. Jazax snorted and perked an eyebrow.

“I’m guessin’ that ain’t a Smokywood Pastures-approved costume,” He quipped, taking the mug of nog offered to him.

“Eh, those cheats dinnae know th' foremost thing about Winterveil!” Bartram huffed, before guzzling his nog, “Them goblins are just in it for th' dosh!”

“Hey, easy with that anti-Smokeywood talk, eh?” Jazax warned, “Unless you wanna fight off a swarm of Jinglepocket and Copperpinch lackeys.”

“Bah, ah could take ‘em!” Bartram scoffed before taking another swig of his nog.

Jazax just shook his head slightly, setting aside his schematics before taking a sip of his own nog. He coughed, feeling like swallowing it was akin to swallowing a grenade. And not even in the good way.

“Hey, Baldy, I think you forgot to add anything besides the rum,” He warbled, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

Bartram just laughed heartily and slapped him on the back, nearly knocking him out of his chair and into the fireplace.

“Well, maybe if you'd stop wit the wee fruity drinks 'n' had a good stout once in a while, you'd be used tae it!” Bartram teased, taking Jazax’s mug back and swigging from it.

“Jeez, no wonder you dwarves are all about this holiday, what with all the drinking,” Jazax rolled his eyes.

“Awright, dinnae chap Winterveil, laddie!” Bartram said with a scowl, “It ain't just about th' swallyin!”

Jazax waved a hand at him dismissively, not even understanding half those words anyway. To his surprise, Bartram grabbed his arm and yanked him right out of his seat.

“There might nae be snow in Stranglethorn, aye,” Bartram said as he pulled Jazax to the door, “But we’re gonnae find yer Winterveil jolly yet, lad!”

Jazax protested against his grip, but it was a useless endeavor. Bartram wasn’t dissuaded once he had his mind set on something, after all. So he just sighed and let Bartram lead him across the docks.

“Ye cannae tummy a dram, aye?” Bartram glanced back at him with a smile, “Sae we'll have a go at fairn. It ain't called th' Feast o' Winterveil for hee haw, laddie! Nobody canne tummy sweetmeats!”

Jazax furrowed his brow in confusion, but started to get the picture when Bartram led him to a little hole-in-the-wall at the edge of the docks. The intermingling smells of the familiar holiday spices and the pungent stench of the low tide didn’t mix well at all, and it made his stomach churn something fierce.

“Uhh, yeah, I’m gonna pass,” Jazax said as he pointed back to the door over his shoulder, “I’d rather just go work on some---”

“Oh nae ye dinnae,” Bartram shook his head, “Ye cannae sit by yerself in that musty old workshop during Winterveil! If eating wilnae dae it for ye, then ah hae another idea! Follow me!”

Jazax groaned and let Bartram wheel him out of the restaurant, leading him up to the second layer of the docks. This time, Bartram pushed him into a tailor shop. Jazax perked an eyebrow, turning to the shopkeeper as Bartram was flicking him a gold coin.

“Fit him for th’ fair, aye?” He said with a nod of his head towards Jazax.

The other goblin caught the gold coin, nibbled the edge for good measure, and then looked towards Jazax. He snorted in amusement, looking back at Batram and nodded his head.

“You’re the boss,” He grinned, grabbing Jazax and pulling him into the back.

When Jazax emerged again, he was stuffed into a garish and scratchy sweater that made him look twice as thick. He couldn’t even put his arms all the way down, and the collar was so long that it bunched up under his nose. The chest was decorated with various reindeer, each of them having a little sewn on bell for a nose. It made him jingle annoyingly whenever he moved. Bartram took one look at him and pulled down his white beard, grinning.

“Take a keek at ye!” He beamed, “Yer a right reveler now!”

“I look like an idiot,” Jazax murmured, scowling as Bartram shoved his hat onto his head.

“Nae, yer braw!” Bartram nodded, before grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the tailor’s shop, “Now let's gang tae th' howf! A'm sure there’s other revelers at th' Salty Sailor! Th' best part of' Winterveil is th' carousing!”

Jazax sighed and reluctantly followed Bartram. He wasn’t keen on being seen in this silly getup, and he didn’t really have much of an interest in celebrating anything today. Winterveil was one of the few times of year where he could reliably have entire days to himself. He knew Bartram meant well, but he also had the unfortunate affliction of being an idiot. Sighing again, he began to try to plan the proper way to tell Bartram off without hurting the old dwarf’s feelings.

Bartram pulled them into the Tavern with a broad proclamation of holiday well-wishing to the half-drunken crowd. Oh, who was he kidding? They were pirates. There was nothing half-drunk about them. They gave groggy, slurred cheers in return, before fixating back on their drinks.

“Who’s up for a song?” Bartram asked the crowd, getting a few overlapping shouts of answer, “Awright, awright. Ah will just start us off, 'n' then ye lads join in!”

Jazax managed to weasel away from Bartram’s distracted grip as he began to belt out an off-key festive song. He rubbed his shoulder, which was now sore from having been pulled about all day, and made his way over towards the bar. Sliding a few silver coins over to Innkeeper Skindle, he ordered his usual South Island Iced Tea and turned to lean his back against the bar. He perked an eyebrow, watching the mass of pirates crooning along with Bartram’s song. Snorting in amusement, he realized they were just as out of tune as the dwarf himself.

“I thought sailors liked singin’ all the time,” He quipped to himself, taking his drink from Skindle, “So why are they so bad at it?”

“Either too drunk, or not drunk enough.”

Jazax looked over beside him, seeing a goblin woman sitting at the bar next to him and sipping a drink. His first impression was that she was pretty. Her skin was a little more yellow than his, making her look a little jaundiced under the flickering lights of the bar. The bangs of her bright blue hair covered her right eye, as the other yellow orb watched him suspiciously. She lifted her head from her drink, blowing at her bangs, and turned to him.

“What the heck are you wearing?” She asked, eyeing his sweater judgingly.

“My buddy, the one crowin’ over there, made me wear it,” Jazax shrugged, struggling to push his arm enough to bring his drink to his lips, “I can’t believe that idiot wasted a whole gold on this thing.”

The goblin woman turned her head, looking over towards Bartram, and snorted. When she did, Jazax finally became aware of the bone pierced through her nose. As he stared at it, wondering how he could’ve missed it previously, the goblin woman spoke.

“You talkin’ about Bart?” She asked, perking a blue eyebrow, “So you must be that guy he was talkin’ about, then? The engineer?”

“Yeah, I’m Jazax---err, wait, you know Baldy too?” Jazax cocked his head to the side, half of his face getting swallowed by the collar of his sweater.

In response, the goblin woman clicked her tongue and set her own drink down. Then she reached out towards him, grabbed his collar roughly, and rolled it down under his chin. Jazax blinked at her, holding his breath awkwardly as she leaned so close to his face, and only breathed again once she leaned away.

“Yeah, course I know him,” She nodded, pausing to blow her bangs back again, “I’m his partner, Tezz Moneyhire.”

Jazax nodded in recognition of the name, glancing aside. Great, just what he needed now. Another person to pester him. And a goblin woman, of all things! He glanced back at Tezz, realizing she was staring at him expectantly.

“Oh, uh, so...” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um, that’s an interestin’ name. Moneyhire, I mean. Was that from your parents or did you---”

“I made it,” Tezz sniffed, sipping her drink, “I’m a mercenary.”

“Oh, right, makes sense,” Jazax nodded, unsure the exact reason why he felt so uncomfortable talking to this woman.

In theory, it was just like talking to anybody else. But every time he shot a nervous glance back in her direction, he’d lose whatever train of thought he had. And that meant she was special somehow, right? At least, in theory. It was an enigma to him, his peculiar reaction towards her. And he’d always hated mysteries.

Glancing down a moment in thought, he turned and set down his own drink. Then he looked back at Tezz and put on his best charming smile. He’d get to the bottom of this enigma, whatever it took.


End file.
